Night Train
by MrsMCrieff
Summary: Molly has decided to treat herself to an 'Orient Express' style train ride. The only downside is she's travelling alone...or is she? A short, eventually sexy times Sherlolly.
1. Chapter 1

**So, I'm dedicating this fic to my bestest friend, lilsherlockian1975. Not only because she motivated me to keep writing this one, even supplying some dialogue to get me going with it again but because she is an endless source of friendship, humour and support. She is the 'wind beneath my wings' and yes I'm laughing as I write it and know she'll be laughing as she reads it.**

 **Other than that I own nothing, I only wish I did.**

 **Chapter 1**

It was purely coincidence that they both ended up on the same train heading towards Edinburgh although if Molly had been thinking straight she would have remembered that Sherlock's stance was always that the universe was rarely so lazy.

She was on her way to visit her mum in Scotland and had treated herself to an old fashioned sleeper train as an belated Birthday present to herself. She had always had dreams of doing something like this ever since she had seen the 1970's Albert Finney film of Hercule Poirot solving the Murder on the Orient Express.

She'd been looking forward to it for weeks and had told just about everyone she knew and now here she was embarking on the journey which was normally a quick but boring flight. This was a slow train. They were setting off at five o'clock in the evening and weren't due to arrive in Edinburgh until nine the next day. There was a three course evening meal and breakfast included and it was all set to a 1920's backdrop with waiters in white breast coats with shiny brass buttons and guests wearing their best tuxedos and evening dresses.

Molly glanced down at her gown encased in a black dress bag. She couldn't wait to put it on. She had arrived thirty minutes early and was already in her cabin admiring the lush decor; all brocade fabrics and polished wood complete with a tiny cupboard which opened up to reveal a mirror and basin.

The steward had advised her that he would come in during the meal and convert her seating area into a bed and she was excited about sleeping in between the lush cotton sheets on a train chugging its way through the wintry countryside.

As the hour approached five o'clock Molly opened the window in the door to the platform and lent out watching the final few passengers boarding the train, the guard glanced at his watch and pulled a whistle out of his pocket. At exactly five and with all the doors shut he let out a shrill blast; with the steam engine at the front letting out a responding toot and Molly grinned to herself. It really was as though she were part of a film, living the dream for once rather than being a bystander. All she needed now was a mysterious stranger to fall in love with.

The next thing she saw blew that completely out of the water as she witnessed Sherlock running down the platform glancing in the windows as he went. The guard held out his arm to stop him even as the train started to pull slowly away.

Sherlock shouted something at the man and held up a leather bound card and then he was running again. It was then that his eyes locked with Molly's and she heard him shout, 'the door, Molly, the door.'

She jumped in shock before turning the handle and holding it open for him, feeling a frisson of fear as she saw how fast the train was starting to go; but then his hand was on the door frame and he was heaving himself into the cabin and slamming the door too behind him.

His momentum carried him forwards into Molly and before she knew what was happening she was lying flat on her back on the chairs with Sherlock lying, panting on top of her.

As he pulled himself back upright, straightening his hair with one hand, he turned to Molly and held out a hand helping her to sit back up.

'Thank you Molly, I'm not sure I would have got on board without your help.'

Molly felt sure her mouth was goldfishing open and shut as she stared at the face of the unrequited love of her life. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'Well, that's not a particularly nice greeting Molly. Aren't you glad to see me?'

'I...that is...I'm sure you're not here to see me so why Sherlock? Why are you here... of all places?'

'Fine, maybe you're right. I was chasing a diamond thief, I managed to follow him to the station and saw him boarding the train. Luckily I had Lestrade's ID on me otherwise the guard would have stopped me and I would have lost him. As it is I have no idea where he might be but all we need to do is trace him and make sure he doesn't leave. Now where is this train heading and what's the next stop?' He asked as he pulled his phone out, huffing as he held it up in the hope of picking up a signal.

'We're on our way to Edinburgh.'

'Great...and the next stop is?' He circled his hand indicating for Molly to continue.

'That's it, there is no stop. It's the slow train to Edinburgh and there are no other stops. Looks like you're stuck.'

It was then that he seemed to take in his surroundings and looked around and then back at Molly before narrowing his eyes.

'So, I'm assuming you're on your way to your mothers for a visit no doubt,' he said the word visit as though it were something abhorrent, 'and what, you're indulging a childhood dream about train travel. Your obviously alone, isn't that a little sad?'

Molly pulled herself upright feeling a sting of hurt which was more to do with the accuracy of his deduction than anything else, 'what I do is none of your business Sherlock. Maybe you should just leave.'

He tapped on his phone having picked up a signal, 'nonsense Molly this is perfect. We can just act as though we are a couple and keep an eye out for my miscreant. Lestrade can then meet us in Scotland and arrest him. It's perfect.'

Molly frowned, 'well it doesn't sound perfect to me. Where are you going to stay, what are you going to wear?' Though even as she said the latter she took in his expensive and very well fitted black suit and pristine white shirt and just knew that he could fit in anywhere.

'I'll stay here with you and wear this, I'm sure I'll be fine.'

Just then there was a knock on the door and Sherlock stood up glancing behind the pulled down black blind at their visitor. He followed that up by opening the door.

'Good evening Sir, Madam,' said the waiter who was pulling a trolley behind him. 'Dinner will be served for yourselves at seven in dining car A. Would you like an aperitif in the meantime?'

'Yes, a bottle of white wine and make it a good one, my wife and I are celebrating our five year anniversary.' He handed over Molly's room card for payment and slipped the man some notes, 'listen. My wife's ex seems to be on the same train. I'm sure he just wants to make trouble for us. He's five ten, aged about thirty, white blond hair and a bit of a hair lip. You don't happen to have come across him have you?'

The waiter looked conspiratorially up and down the corridor and then back at Sherlock, 'I think I have. He's alone at the bar which is just beyond the dining cars. Do you want me to warn him off or anything?'

'No, no that's fine. He hasn't don't anything untoward yet but it'll be good to be kept informed of his movements. I don't want my wife upset. I'm sure you understand.'

'Yes, yes of course.' He glanced down at the money in his hand and raised an eyebrow as he looked back at Sherlock.

Sherlock palmed him some more and he smiled widely, 'you can count on me, and if there is anything else that you or Mrs Hooper would like please just ring the bell.'

He handed over the wine and glasses to Sherlock and then took his leave. Sherlock closed and then locked the door before putting the wine down onto the small drop down table in front of the seats.

'It appears our work here is limited. Wine?'

'Um...yes I suppose so. But...'

Sherlock handed her a glass, 'Molly stop worrying. It's a result. I've been after this guy for three days now and the case is pretty much closed. Lestrade has my text and is flying up to meet us so we may and well celebrate. Cheers.'

He clinked his glass against hers, took a sip and then sat down next to her. Given the size of the cabin there was no choice but to be rather 'up close and personal' and Molly realised she could smell the light shades of his cologne. When she looked at him he had lent his head against the head rest and had his eyes closed with a small smile playing on his lips.

It was then that she noticed just how gaunt he looked; his cheekbones standing out in sharp relief and the dark smudges under his eyes.

'Sherlock when did you last sleep or eat?'

'Hmm,' he lazily opened his eyes and focused on her causing her stomach to drop. 'Oh I don't know a couple of days ago. It's all a bit of a blur when I'm working. I'm sure John mentioned something about food yesterday but I was too busy.'

He lent forward slightly and licked his lips, 'so, what's on the menu for tonight Molly?'

For a split second Molly was so tempted to say, 'you.' He looked delectable, as ever. It didn't seem fair that he should look so good. She always felt scruffy and unkempt next to him. Which reminded her she needed to get ready.

She said as much to Sherlock as she stood up expecting him to vacate the cabin but instead he stretched out on his side over her seating area and closed his eyes, 'go ahead. I won't look, I promise, no matter how much I'm tempted. Wake me at six thirty and we can go down to the bar and check on our erstwhile thief.'

Molly blushed at the thought of getting changed in a small, enclosed space with Sherlock lying less than two feet away but he soon seemed genuinely asleep, his breathing patterns evening out and his mouth open ever so slightly. She took another sip of her wine and closed her eyes sighing heavily before turning to her bag and starting to unpack.

An hour later and Molly was dressed in a floor length claret coloured, chiffon gown with beading around the waist, bodice and straps. She had a wrap to go with it if she needed it but trying to change in a small space without waking Sherlock had made her quite hot and bothered. Not to mention she could have sworn it felt as though he were watching her but every time she looked round at him his eyes were shut and his face unchanged. It seemed it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

She was now stood in front of the mirror applying her make up after putting her hair up into a simple chignon. She had to admit she was happy with how she looked. She knew she would never be classed as a beauty but she was pretty when she made an effort.

Just as she finished applying her lipstick she heard a faint groan from Sherlock. She glanced round and saw that he had twisted over on the seat so he was lying more on his back and his face looked as though he might be having some kind of nightmare. Even as she made her way over to him he groaned again and flung his head back as though in some kind of agony.

She put her hand out nervously, worrying about waking him, 'Sherlock,' she whispered.

'God...please...' Came his strangled response as his eyes squeezed even more shut, his forehead creasing; he looked to be in pain.

Worried she knelt down by his side and putting her hand on his shoulder she shook him, 'Sherlock.' This time she was louder and his eyes snapped open staring straight into hers. His pupils were so dilated she could only make out a thin band of silvery blue around the edge and she was caught unawares when he suddenly put one hand behind her head and pulled her too him for a bruising kiss.

Before she could even collect herself or pull away his tongue was in her mouth and other hand was on her waist pulling her onto him. She gave into him at first, shocked into submission but when she felt his hand move from her waist to her backside she pulled away, scrambling off him.

'Sherlock...please...'

He looked at her in confusion as though suddenly realising she was actually there and he sat up rubbing one hand over his face and pushing his hands through his curls making them stick up on end.

'I...I'm sorry Molly.' He looked up again and seemed to take her in for the first time. There was a moment of silence between them before he stood up, 'or maybe I'm not. You look...'

Molly found herself staring up at him now realising how close he was in the confined space. He brought one hand up and lightly twisted a tendril of hair around his finger. Then he shook his head and pulled back, 'I apologise Molly. I...maybe we should head to the bar. I don't know about you but I think I could do with a drink.'

He moved to the door and held it open, waiting for Molly to pick up her bag and wrap and exit before him.

 **And so it begins. It's only a short fic, just three chapters in total. I'll post again on Friday with the last one on Sunday. In the meantime let me know if you like the start.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, who knew there were so many if you out there who dream of taking a train ride on an old fashioned sleeper - glad I'm not alone, shame we wouldn't get Sherlock joining us...**

 **As promised here is part two. Thank you all for your feedback, I'm so glad you're enjoying it. And thanks again to Lil for her lines of dialogue (see if you can spot them) and her unending support.**

 **Chapter 2**

As they made their way down the swaying corridor Molly found her mind whirling. This trip was veering wildly off track and she felt as though she had been thrown into some kind of alternate universe. What else would explain Sherlock kissing her? He'd seemed confused and half awake though so she could only think that he'd been caught up in a dream but a dream that made him want to kiss her?

As they went through the dining cars to the bar Molly bit her lip and smiled happily at the white linens and crystals, the silver cutlery was being polished and laid out. It all looked so perfect and at least she now had an in-built date for the night, she determined to just enjoy herself. She was unlikely to ever repeat this again and certainly not with Sherlock.

The bar was reasonably busy when they arrived but they were soon able to place their order. As Sherlock glanced around looking for his thief Molly noticed that his hair was still sticking up from when he'd ruffled it early. She giggled a little and he glanced around at her suspiciously. 'What is it Molly?'

She shook her head, 'it's nothing, just...well...your hair's a bit of a mess that's all.'

He huffed and sat down on a nearby stool and bent his head towards her. After a few seconds when she didn't do anything he looked back up, 'sort me out then!'

'Oh! OK.' Molly knew she was blushing at being asked to do something which felt so intimate but tentatively she touched his hair, feeling how soft it was. Gently she flattened some of the worse bits and tidied it up. Just as she finished he lifted his head back up and looked into her eyes and Molly found herself caught in his gaze with her hands now moving to his neck. She could feel his pulse thudding under her palm and it seemed as affected as her own. For a moment she wondered if they were going to kiss again but then his gaze flicked to over her shoulder and he moved towards her and whispered in her ear, 'I see him. He seems to be alone but we need to make sure he doesn't have an accomplice on board.'

Molly tried to keep up with the change in subject and had to shake her head to rid herself of images of Sherlock kissing her.

They collected their drinks and moved to a table where Sherlock could keep an eye on his suspect. The man was sat on the other side of the carriage behind Molly so Sherlock could easily see him whilst apparently looking at Molly. It was only when Molly sighed heavily in boredom that Sherlock actually focused his attention back in her, 'what? What's wrong?'

She frowned, 'well. This was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime for me Sherlock. If you're going to gate crash it the least you can do is talk to me.'

Now it was his turn to frown, 'well what do you want to talk about?'

'I don't know. Anything, how did you pick up this case? Why isn't John with you?'

'Boring Molly. What's of more interest is why you are on this trip alone and dressing like that?'

Molly looked down at herself, 'why? What's wrong with my outfit?'

Sherlock's lips twitched, 'nothing Molly, that's the problem. That dress fits you perfectly. It makes your breasts look bigger. It suits your skin tone and nearly every man in this carriage has looked at young least once and not just that they've looked covetously. You were wearing it with a view to picking up a man but I have to say this wouldn't have been the best venue. Most of the men here are with their wives or, in the case of the staff, are far too young for you.'

Molly wasn't quite sure whether to be insulted or flattered by his deductions but given her determination to enjoy herself she decided she would go with flattered. She brushed a tendril of hair off her shoulder, sitting up a little straighter, 'so you like my dress then?'

His eyes wandered back over her and he licked his lips, 'actually I do.' Once again their eyes met and Molly felt herself heating up under his gaze. Just at the point that it started to become awkward the head waiter entered the carriage and asked the occupants to make their way through to their allocated dining car.

Sherlock finished his whiskey in one gulp and then stood offering his arm to Molly who took it with a shy smile. She was starting to enjoy herself and wondered just how far she could push this flirtation that she seemed to have going on with him.

Thankfully they were seated alone, not having to share their table with anyone else. The waiters moved in a synchronised fashion up and down the narrow aisle bringing bread, wine, water and then bowls of watercress soup complete with a soft boiled quails egg in the centre. Molly loved watercress soup and this was one of the most delicious she'd ever had.

As she ate the small egg whole she closed her eyes and moaned in delight missing the way her companion looked at her, his Adam's apple bobbing and his eyes dilating. Molly was proving to be most enchanting and Sherlock was glad he had made the effort to join her.

When she opened her eyes he smirked, 'enjoying your meal then?'

She blushed delightfully and looked away. He took the opportunity to move his leg so it was touching the outside of her calf. He noticed her jump slightly and pull away, giving him more space. But more space was exactly what he didn't want. Since the moment he had woken to find Molly leaning over him he was finding himself more and more caught up with thoughts of his pathologist in various states of undress.

His non-existent case was almost forgotten and Sherlock was starting to wish the meal was just one course not three. He moved his leg against hers once more. This time she looked at him suspiciously but he made a show of looking at the other guests, 'I can't see him from here, but I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. Are you having the lamb or the sea bass for your main course?'

Molly answered with the latter and watched as Sherlock passed their order on to the waiter. She could still feel his leg against hers burning her skin where it touched. She'd thought the initial touch was in error but the second time seemed too much of a coincidence. This was a man who liked his personal space but he was purposefully crowding her. She decided, probably due to the wine she had already drunk, to call his bluff.

She kicked off one of her shoes and let her stockinged foot slide up the inside of Sherlock's thigh. She saw him visibly flinch and look at her briefly before he swallowed deeply and picked up his wine. As her foot rested against his crotch he smiled and raised his glass to her, 'to us, Molly.'

The look he gave her and the fact that he had done nothing to stop her sent a spiral of lust winding through her body. She could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. What was he saying? Did he want something to happen between them?

She flexed her foot tentatively and saw his eyes close a little as he bit his lip, 'be careful Molly two can play that game and I'm sure I would win.'

Molly took another sip of her wine and decided to continue to push things, 'Really, win a game you've never even shown any interest in playing.'

He smiled and looked her in the eye, 'just because I've never shown my interest, Molly, doesn't mean that the interest isn't there.'

She frowned, 'curious.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well your phrasing.'

'What about it?'

She leant forward and added a little pressure to his crotch with her foot, 'I picture your interest kept behind a heavily locked door in your mind palace.' She smirked at him, and he heard the challenge in the tone of her voice. 'Complete with guard dogs and barbed wire.'

She bit her lip and cocked her head and she looked so wicked for a moment that Sherlock almost forgot the game. Then she continued, 'I wonder if you're willing to let those defenses down enough to...umm' she blushed and looked away, her bravado leaving her at the last minute. She let her foot drop back to the floor as she picked up her wine glass embarrassingly, wondering what Sherlock must be thinking of her.

What she didn't expect was his next response.

He leant towards her this time and said simply, 'you breached my defenses a long time ago Molly. So now what?'

Molly knew her eyes had widened and could feel her heart thudding in her chest once more, she almost wondered if he could hear it. But before she could answer the waiter returned carrying plates of sea bass that he płaced down in front of them.

Molly felt as though she were coming out of a dream as Sherlock thanked the waiter and picked up his knife and fork. As he started to eat he asked Molly if she was currently working on any new scientific papers. She began to feel that maybe she had imagined the last conversation and she might have convinced herself if it weren't for a very un-Sherlock like blush that he had high on his cheekbones and his dilated eyes. If she had to deduce him she would say he was aroused.

Once again the food was delicious, but light not heavy. Another wine was served with the main course and Molly was conscious that she was drinking more than normal but she was enjoying herself too much to worry or stop. They discussed various aspects of Molly's job whilst they were eating and she was enjoying being able to be herself with her companion rather than avoiding her job because of her date's distaste.

The time seemed to pass easily and comfortably and before she knew it they were finishing desert and being invited to return back to the bar for a final night cap.

As she stood up and moved to the aisle the train jolted and she wobbled on her heels trying to get her balance but then she felt Sherlock's hands on her waist supporting her. She turned her head to thank him but instead of removing his hands he bent his head and kissed the base of her neck causing her to shudder. The feel of his lips on her skin sent goose bumps all down her arms.

His lips moved to her ear and in a low whisper he said, 'let's make this night cap a fast one because I can't wait to get you back to your cabin.'

Molly had to swallow deeply and force her feet to move forward when every cell in her body was itching to drag him back to the cabin straight away. There was something deeply sensual and erotic about the anticipation though, the build-up. And Molly was still finding this all so hard to believe. Where had this change in Sherlock come from and why now?

If she'd had the bravery to ask she would have found out that Sherlock's change of heart regarding personal relationships had been brewing for quite some time.

It had started as he had been told by his brother that his punishment for the murder of Magnussen would be exile and imminent death. Neither the exile nor the death sentence were what caused the clenching of his stomach it was the sudden realisation that he couldn't say goodbye to Molly.

He lay on his bed that night and thought through his reaction. Yes, it upset him to think of his own mortality. He didn't want to die and he would do everything in his power to prevent it. It also saddened him to think about saying farewell to John and even his brother. But when it came to Molly he found his fists clenching and his eyes squeezing shut. He knew, just knew he wouldn't be able to do it without breaking down. He didn't want to see the look of hurt in her eyes, knew he wouldn't be able to cope with her tears.

It wasn't the sentiment that she would show him that frightened him it was the sentiment he might show her. He had long been attracted to her and knew he had repressed it. It was the reason in the early days for his derogatory comments and cruel ignorance of her. He'd done it to protect himself from his own burgeoning feelings. None of it had worked and bit by bit Molly had wormed her way deeper into his heart.

He now realised that he had been harbouring a desire to do more than watch her from the sidelines and now that opportunity, that he had kept putting off, was denied to him and he couldn't stand it. He was angry with himself for having wasted all those chances.

The drugs were just his way of dulling the pain as he left England and left her. The problem was that when the exile was lifted and the reprieve given he didn't quite know what to do or how to change things between them. He knew Molly was still attracted to him, he saw it every time she looked at him but their habits around each other were so ingrained and he was sorely out of his depth when it came to emotions and so he kept letting time pass and opportunities pass him by whilst he tried to find the best way to change things between them.

That all changed last week though when he overheard Molly, in the lab, telling John all about the trip she had planned. She told him all about her love of the Murder on the Orient Express, which made Sherlock roll his eyes even as he tried to keep them trained on the slide he was studying through his microscope. It was a story he was familiar with and he recalled solving it far quicker than that ridiculous little fictional detective.

When John had asked her if she was travelling with anyone he'd heard her overly bright response that no, she was going alone but that was fine. It wasn't fine and she knew it but as ever his sweet, little Molly was putting on a positive front; as she always did. He determined then and there to change that situation.

He'd initially planned to book his own ticket and cabin and 'bump into her' on the train but a case genuinely had overtaken him and he had only managed to solve it with less than an hour to spare before the train left from King's Cross station. He really had had to run to catch it and it was lucky Molly had spotted him.

As for the diamond thief, well she wanted to be in a detective story didn't she! He'd seen that man waving goodbye to relatives on the platform and he'd seemed distinctive enough for the part of a fictional criminal.

And so the scene was all set and his plan in motion and Sherlock had no doubts about the final act.

 **End of part two. Final chapter will be up Sunday and be warned there will be smut...did you ever expect anything less from me.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you once more for all the interest you've shown in this fic. I feel overwhelmed with all the love. We've finally made it to the good stuff so in with the story.**

 **Lil - don't forget, this is for you. Thank you for everything xx**

 **Chapter 3**

By the time they got to the bar after the meal Sherlock was hard and uncomfortable. He was wondering why he hadn't suggested that he and Molly go straight back to her cabin. He had been genuinely awe-struck by how beautiful she looked in that dress and he couldn't wait to see her out of it.

He quickly placed an order for a whiskey for himself and a Baileys for Molly and then he led her over to two stools at the end of the bar. Molly perched on one and sipped her drink glancing at him every so often, blushing delightfully when their eyes met.

She changed however when she looked past Sherlock's shoulder. She leant forwards, putting her hand on his thigh, 'your man's here. He's just come in with a woman.'

Sherlock had almost forgotten about his fake case but Molly looked excited to be able to help.

'Describe her too me, give me detail.' He watched delighted as she gave him a thorough description of some random woman. Her eagerness to help him removed her nervousness; her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed and he loved watching her expressions and her mouth as she talked.

'Oh, they're leaving again. Should we follow?'

'No, it's fine. We can pick them both up in Edinburgh. They're not going anywhere...but I think it's time we did, don't you?'

Once again Molly blushed and he saw her swallow hard before biting her lip.

'I...Sherlock...what are we doing here? I'm confused.'

He took her hand as he stood, 'not here, back in your cabin.' He towed her along behind him, his footing sure, even with the swaying of the carriages.

Molly felt as though all of her fantasies were coming true at once and but for her complete confusion at this bizarre turnaround in Sherlock's personality she would have been ecstatically happy. She couldn't help but feel that she were missing something though. Maybe she was misinterpreting the signs because surely he wasn't actually planning on them having sex...was he?

She was answered in part when he opened her cabin and gestured for her to enter. As he locked the door behind him he turned to face her with such a look of desire on his face that it took her breath away.

Slowly he backed her up against the wall opposite the fold down bed which was just slightly bigger than a single, perfectly made up with white cotton sheets and an old fashioned eiderdown. As she felt her back hit the wooden paneling his hands came up to rest either side of her head.

She wasn't sure what she should do or say but he took the initiative and bent his head to capture her lips. The thing she soon realised about kissing Sherlock was how focused and intense it was. He used his whole body to kiss her, from the way he locked his eyes with hers as he leant closer to the way he moved his hands to hold her face tilting her head to the perfect angle. His body pressed against hers pinning her to the wall, his hips lightly pressing into hers.

She was breathless and dizzy as her mouth opened up to his feeling his tongue tasting her and exploring.

She clung to him as her brain stuttered, losing her train of thought, her hold on reality itself. The only thing in her world was him, how he felt, how he tasted, his smell, his touch. Her previous experiences of kissing seemed so juvenile in comparison. He made her feel as though she were the only important thing in his life in that moment and it was addictive.

When he finally pulled away she moaned at the loss of his lips on hers; moving herself forwards to try to kiss him again. Instead he was kissing down her neck even as she felt his hands slide down to her shoulders and then to her back as he searched for the zip.

Her own hands were now more active as she realised he was hers to touch and feel like never before. Now was her chance to see beneath the perfectly fitted suit and the skin-tight shirt. She soon managed to push the jacket off his shoulders. He released her momentarily to allow her to push it down his arms.

On his second time of trying he found the zip and slowly slid it down from the middle of her back to just above her backside. The feel of his hands sliding against the skin of her back sent shockwaves through her body all heading south. Before he removed the dress from her though he kissed her once more, this time it was more passionate and frantic. Her hands were shaking as she tried to undo the buttons on his shirt; grateful at how easily they popped apart. His skin felt so warm beneath her touch. She wanted to kiss and lick and bite every inch of him and desperately wanted him to do the same to her.

He helped her release his cuffs and shrugged off his shirt and then he moved his hands to the straps of her dress. He looked her in the eye as if to ask her permission before he removed it and she nodded her head slightly to show her acceptance.

Gently he pulled the dress forward and down until she was able to step out of it. Leaving her wearing nothing but her knickers, thigh high stockings and her heels. There hadn't been any need for a bra with the tight bodice.

He stood back for a moment and looked at her. Just as she started to feel a little self-conscious he glanced up and smiled, 'oh Molly, you are glorious. I have waited far too long...forgive me.'

She frowned a little in confusion at his comment but before she could think it through he tossed the dress to one side and moved back in front of her, bringing his hands up to palm her breasts.

Her own rested on his back feeling his strength under her fingers. She let them trail down feeling his spine and muscles under the thin layer of skin.

Slowly he turned them until Molly was stood in front of the bed and he kissed her again as he moved them backwards onto its cool surface.

As she sank back onto the crisp white sheets she felt Sherlock's mouth move down and onto her breast and she arched her back up to meet the warmth of his tongue as it swirled around her nipple. She let her hands tangle in his hair as she held him, staring at the ceiling wondering if this was some strange dream that she were having. How could she possibly be here, in this moment, embarking on sex with Sherlock, how?

Her thought scattered in an instance when his hand moved down to slide inside the black silk knickers that she was wearing. She felt his hum of delight against her breast as he realised how wet she was for him. She answered with a gasp as his fingers started to slide lower making her hips rock up to meet him, needing to feel him, any part of him, inside her.

She tugged on his hair as he entered her using the heel of his palm to massage her clit as his fingers delved in and out of her. He groaned as she did and the sound of him, the feel of his weight and his hand made her muscles clench and unclench as she started to come.

'Oh God, oh God, Sherlock...' Was all she could manage as her orgasm overtook her. As her senses started to return she felt Sherlock stand and could hear him unzipping his trousers, undressing fully before sliding her pants down her legs and throwing them to one side. Then he was climbing back onto the bed into her eager embrace.

This time as her hands moved down his back there was no barrier nothing to stop her moving down over his backside, that firm, delicious ass that she'd ogled at so many times in her lab and morgue.

She let one of her hands slide between them until she found the part of him she wanted the most. His rock hard erection felt big as she held it in her small hand. She stroked him as she moved him into position feeling his lips on her neck, his warm mouth sucking on her skin making her moan.

Slowly he pushed into her, filling and stretching her so deliciously. Being joined with him was like nothing she had ever felt or experienced before. She felt complete, as though she had finally found her soulmate even though she hadn't realised she needed one.

Sherlock was obviously feeling just as overwhelmed as he brought one hand to her face kissing her in a way that just felt more loving than their passionate kisses before. He broke off, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes shut tight, 'fuck, Molly, you feel perfect. I'm not going to last...it's been too long, far too long.'

She pushed her hips up loving the groan which left his throat at her encouragement. She didn't care if he lasted two minutes or two hours she just wanted to be with him, to feel him, to see his face as he came.

He started to thrust within her and she loved the noises he made, always so vocal it seemed sex was no different as he told her how she felt, how she made him feel, how wet she was. His voice so low and familiar had her desperate for more. She pulled on his backside urging him to go faster, to go deeper and as he did she felt a second climax start to overtake her. This time they came together and she heard him call her name though she was too far gone to see his face.

As he moved to one side she ached for the loss of his weight on her body. She turned into him looping one arm over his chest as he hugged her, breathing heavily.

'God, Molly...that was...'

She smirked a little enjoying hearing him so lost for words. She just kissed his chest in response feeling his hand weaving into her hair holding the back of her head.

Without being fully aware of it she slowly slipped into sleep, exhausted by the excitement of the day and the unexpected but satisfying sex at the end of it.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

After Molly had fallen asleep Sherlock had managed to manoeuvre them both under the covers and he lay, in the darkness, holding Molly and enjoying listening to the repetitive rattle of the train on the tracks. There was something infinity soothing about it, the darkness, the noise, the feel of Molly sleeping in his arms. He had been right to come. He'd been fighting his own feelings and emotions for so long and now, after this, he couldn't for the life of him understand why.

His coupling with Molly had been unlike any of the other sexual experiences he had had previously. But then none of them had been emotional, none of those people had meant anything to him; they were just a means to an end. Molly was different, she meant more to him than even he had realised and he knew that this was it for him. There would be no one else, no other distraction, just Molly.

He smiled contentedly as he let sleep overtake his own, normally so frantic, mind.

It was early morning when he next awoke. It was the cold which dragged him from his dreams. He shivered and moved his hand searching for the covers but finding only a sheet. He opened his eyes just as Molly called his name.

As he leant up on his elbows he realised that the train had stopped and she was wrapped up in the eiderdown and peering out of the open window in the carriage.

'Sherlock, quick. Your suspect might be getting away.'

'Oh Molly, come back to bed. There never was any suspect.'

Molly's face was a picture of confusion as she pulled her head back inside and looked round at him, 'what do you mean?'

'I mean, Molly, close the window and come back to bed. It's freezing.'

She did as she was told but as she crawled back onto the bed she stayed kneeling up at the side of him, looking down. Her hair was delightfully ruffled and he felt a swell of pride at the love bite at the base of her neck. He had a sudden, visceral memory of putting it there and found himself wanting to taste her again, but this time more intimately.

'So?'

He broke out of his fantasies, feeling a little frustrated, 'so what?'

'What did you mean there's no suspect? That's why you're here...chasing the diamond thief...isn't it?'

He shrugged and moved onto his side letting his hand creep under the covers that she still had wrapped around her, his hand sliding up her thigh, 'oh Molly, you see but you don't observe. There was never any thief that was just an excuse...a reason for me to be here. I thought the excitement of a case might add to the thrill of the trip.'

She frowned, still deeply bewildered, ignoring his hand sneaking its way onto her hip. 'But I...I don't get it?'

He was starting to feel a little out of his comfort zone but he knew the time had come to actually talk about feelings; she needed to know how he felt about her.

'I've been wanting to...umm...change our relationship for a while now Molly, but it's not an area I'm either familiar with or good at. Anyway, I heard you talking about this trip and it was clear that you wanted romance and adventure so...I decided I would join you. I'll admit I honestly almost didn't make it, the case of the red headed league almost prevented me, but I managed to solve it with just enough time to catch the train and...well, you know the rest.'

He took advantage of her shock sitting himself up and swiveling her round and down so she was underneath him once more. As she started to ask him further questions he started to kiss and lick and bite his way down her body.

'So there's no diamond thief? No case?'

'Nope'. He popped the P and then bent his head to her breast sucking her nipple into his mouth feeling it harden against his tongue. He could tell that she was still distracted by what he had just said though even if her hands did automatically move to his hair.

'So, when you say you want to change our relationship you're saying you like me...you want to be with me.'

He chuckled at the disbelief in her voice and moved himself further down the bed, kissing her stomach as he went, 'Molly, we've just had sex. Does that not tell you something about my feelings?'

He could smell her now and it made his mouth water as he moved down between her thighs. It appeared that Molly was still caught up in her own thoughts though hardly seeming to notice as he sucked the skin near her hip determined to mark her once more.

'Well, sex doesn't necessarily mean feelings. I just...I thought maybe you'd just got carried away...that this was a one off.'

He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent, 'not just a one-off Molly, definitely not just a one-off'.

He lifted her thighs over his shoulders and finally, finally put his mouth on her; using his tongue to lick from her centre to her clit. She tasted as good as she smelt even if he could taste himself on her as well. It seemed he'd finally managed to pull her from her musings as he heard her gasp in shock at the sensation before letting out a low moan as he placed an open mouth kiss on her clit.

He could hear her hands gripping at the sheets as he moved so he could thrust his tongue into her warmth. Oral sex was obviously something Molly enjoyed and she was very vocal about it which in its turn just aroused him further. By the time she came, shamelessly rubbing herself against his face, he knew he was not just achingly hard but leaking pre-cum onto the sheets.

As he moved back up the bed he was surprised when Molly took control; pushing him onto his back before straddling his hips.

She took a moment to readjust the covers over them both and then she took hold of his cock, pulling his foreskin up before sliding herself down onto him.

The feeling of her tight warmth enveloping him even as she leant over him to kiss him had his mind grappling to stay in control. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, her tongue in his mouth tasting herself and loving it from the guttural moans coming from her throat.

She didn't wait long before starting to ride him and when she broke off from the kiss, lifting her upper body up so she could control the pace, he brought his head and hands to her breasts sucking and biting, listening to her sounds to assess which of his actions gave her greatest pleasure.

He loved how she was using his body to bring herself and him pleasure and he could feel his balls tightening and his mind starting to feel desperate for his climax. He used one hand to press on her lower back, increasing the pressure on her clit and enabling him to thrust up deeper into her and he knew she was as close as he was.

His mouth left her breast and sought out her mouth even as he begged her to come for him. He didn't know if it was his kiss or his words but at that moment he felt her faltering, felt her muscles squeezing around him and it was just the push he needed for his own orgasm to overtake him. She could feel his seed pulsing out and into her and it was amazing and animalistic. In that moment he wanted her to be his, to be heavy with his child. He would never tire of fucking her if she would let him.

This time when they recovered they lay, snuggled under the covers for warmth, lying on their sides and looking at each other.

Molly smiled shyly, even after all they had done together, 'so when you say you don't want this to be a one-off thing...are you just talking sex or...'

He rolled his eyes though if he were honest with himself he knew where her distrust came from. He'd never given her any intimation that his feelings were any other than friendship. 'Molly, I'm not a good man, but you know that and seem to love me anyway. But, I do want to be with you, in every sense of that word. I want to love you and be loved by you, I want sex, I want children...the whole thing. I'm even quite happy to ask your mother for your hand in marriage when we get to her house. The question is Molly...do you want me?'

He saw the shine in her eyes from what he hoped were happy tears, 'I do, Sherlock, I do.'

He sealed her words with a kiss, a long kiss. Molly had to admit that this trip had been the best trip of her life and it looked like her life was only just beginning.

 **And there we have it. Short and sweet, thanks for reading. I'll be back in a few days with the start of a new crime and romance fic. This one is occult based...'Do What Thy Wilt' so look out for it.**

 **In the meantime review, review, review :).**


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